Confessions of a double agent :When Time Stands St
by Sky Samuelle
Summary: In a moment of apparent peace, Nikita analizes her role as Center mole and looks in her future.


CONFESSIONS OF A DOUBLE AGENT: When Time Stands Still  
  
Her back slid along the cool hollow of the bathtub until her nape was wet and her chin grazed the fuming surface of water.  
  
There were no bubbles, just patchouli, other petals of a bright red and slits of almost emerald green gingerly floating on the liquid.  
  
She let her lids fall closed, her interest piqued by the light spicy scent coming up from the water, teasing her nostrils without fully satisfying them.  
  
The warmth of the water seeped in through the pores of her skin and on a purely primal level she was pleased with the slick alert of her senses. She had lost the ability of completely relaxing when in contact with an extended mass of liquid a long time ago, as a result of some nasty missions.  
  
''Yeah, she's in play. What did you expect? It was the same way you put down her father. ''  
  
It has been 3 days since they had brought down Stefan Vacheck and Michael had taken on himself a mission in Cuba. He was due to come back in 4 days. He had left without saying goodbye and she had kept wondering why she needed him to say *that*.  
  
She saw how much he had suffered for completing his assignment with Elena and Adam, knew he had not had the power of acting differently under those circumstances. Although she couldn't bring herself to demonstrate it as she wished. Then why..?  
  
Had it been a shallow, selfish fit of jealousy over his worry for Elena? Maybe. Partly. In a way it would be easier if she could justify herself using such a simple excuse. She knew she had wanted to hurt him, how many times she kept pushing him away, he kept coming back and she kept taking him back.  
  
It wasn't a guarantee it would be different now and she didn't really mind knowing the steps of this dance. This was what they were and she had waited her whole life to feel like she felt with him.  
  
Exactly like that: loved, protected, cherished. Empowered, free, challenged . Entranced, aroused, amused. Possessive, possessed, grateful.  
  
She could find other words for delimiting the concept and inventing quite a few new ones, but she was sure the subject wouldn't be extinguished. If the bond between them wasn't love, then it was something far deeper and mysterious.  
  
It would be over soon, regardless of what they felt, the trust they had miraculously preserved. More than once she had surprised herself spying on him in his sleep, like he was about to fade away under her eyes. When he was on long missions she wondered if this was how it would feel living without him. To think about it, hers was a curiosity almost morbid. If he surprised her staring at him, she smiled and said she couldn't again believe they were an item. Inside she damned him for not knowing the difference between the truth and a lie. He- The Prince of Half-admissions, The Emperor of Deceit. She felt as if he slapped her, shook her until she was forced to vomit on him the crude truth. The truth!  
  
She was a liar, a hypocrite. But, she loved him; More than anybody and anything. Oh, she had fantasized about willingly confessing thousand times, in a thousand different scenarios! To let him find a way to save them both, to convince him to truly escape with her.  
  
It wouldn't be fair: it was her undercover mission, her burden to carry. This time she was the one who recomposes the pieces when the castle of cards fell. It had been easier when all she did was report what she saw. She could pretend their time wasn't slipping between her fingers because after all everything came to an end. It wasn't even certain as to her role, about coming public or active.  
  
It was more difficult when she was told of using their relationship to test their leaders' limits. It was confusing when Helmut Volker was added to the mix.  
  
It wasn't like if the most of high -chain people in Section One, and Ops and Maddie foremost, gave her the credit of understating very much. Probably, they just thought she liked whining for the fun of it. Michael was different. He seemed to know that she observed more than she let on, took it even for a given fact on occasion. No surprise there, he was her trainer and her lover. Now she should truly betray him. As soon Grenet entered in the focus of Section One, which wasn't likely to be too far away.  
  
Would he believed her readiness to sacrifice other lives for her freedom?  
  
It wasn't a secret her dislike of the rules under what Section operated, but it was still a big step from there to ally with a terrorist faction. She supposed her Gelmanization could give her a passable alibi: the anger still hasn't been fully absorbed, although she liked to think she had moved past it . It didn't matter, nobody would ever induce her to feel obligated for the Organization. They had taken her out of the streets, even given her an education, but it was their choice investing in her for their interests, like it was her choice accepting a life of bloodshed and deceit. It was even her choice now at least trying to live up her ideals ,over the appealing alternative of dying of a useless death refusing her orders. There, if in anything else, Center and Section One had the same policy.  
  
She would have to strive to be very convincing. He had taught her that anybody can buy anything, if the set up is convincing enough.  
  
She only hoped the Purge would be the beginning of something good; she needed to believe that it was possible fighting Evil without becoming the Evil, and this was the path the current regime seemed to be taking. So often, when she looked around in Section, her colleagues wore the same look of dull resignation that they saw on the faces of civilians under Dictatorial regimes, the same look on her mother's face when she took passively again another beating. Their obedience was born out of self- preservation, but if it had been asked of them why they lived, they would have trouble answering. They just didn't care anymore, if they had ever did, nor about the Evil they witnessed, or about the innocents they saved.  
  
She didn't want to be like that, refused to think this was the only way.  
  
Somewhere there was an invisible line she didn't want cross.  
  
To be able to see the difference between wrong and right. Even it wasn't so definite as she originally thought.  
  
To be in the right to feel outrage before a crime, even while corruption was so frequent that she risked getting used to it.  
  
To be, always, human. 


End file.
